


Elizabeth.

by SatansBathtub



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Demons, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love, Lust, Missing Persons, On the Run, POV First Person, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Prostitute, Prostitution, References to Depression, Runaway, Sex, aesthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:52:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatansBathtub/pseuds/SatansBathtub
Summary: A short letter full of jumbled thoughts to the missing Lady Elizabeth from the perspective of a character that is up to your interpretation.





	Elizabeth.

The clothing hanger must be dangling from a pin upon the green wall, instead of a wooden closet. Where frills of ivory white undergarments hung instead of her custom made dresses. There was just no use for them anymore, if the young lady wanted her past gone, that included her clothing and her aristocratic status. To instead search for something she might never find.

But perhaps the wall, was actually a blue wall that the sunshine had worn out to green. Was her hair faded and fried by the sunshine too? Did he move that very same hair off her shoulders as his other hand found the small of her back? To think that very same hand tossed coins to the floor in her direction, but if he wasn’t complete scum, would he find her hands once more and gently place his coins there instead?

And when sent to the city, she surrounded herself with people, just thinking about that metal clothing hanger and the coins that carry no value, not to her. It’s all a mystery as to why she would let herself be enveloped by the flames of the loins of the men that carried no value. The only man, although barely a man, that will ever carry value was enveloped by similar flames.

Not even a chance for one last glance, she will never know him again. All she will ever know now is the fact that the men will set their watches back 15 minutes, 15 more minutes to hollow her decaying body out. One minute slow for each year she’s been alive. 15 now, to think that number will rise to 20 one day, 25, 30, she won’t live a day past 30. And when that time comes, what she thought was the sun washing the colour of the walls away, was really just her life before her eyes.

As long as no one found her, the older she got, the farther the coins were tossed from the mattress on the floor, the older she got, the more she realized her thoughts of the boy were gonna swallow her whole. Maybe the lineup of men would swallow her whole first, at least she hoped. So that must’ve been the reason.

But I honestly doubt that. The comfort of living was outweighed by the comfort of leaving.


End file.
